


Hot Desert Nights

by dreamofhorses



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Fingering (moderate), Friends With Benefits, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming (mild)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 00:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18435437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofhorses/pseuds/dreamofhorses
Summary: How does he know?Timmy thinks as he slides his fingers through Will’s hair, feeling its cornsilk softness between his fingers. Because, as neither of them would deny if they knew you well enough, thishashappened before...The desert can be a lonely place, especially if you have something to forget in all that empty space.





	Hot Desert Nights

Will yanks the curtains closed, shutting out the final streaks of the desert sunset over the hills in the distance. 

 

He leaves the tiniest sliver of the curtains open at one side. A determined passerby might notice, might be able to crouch down and see what’s about to happen. Timmy doesn’t know if that was intentional, but it doesn’t matter. Either way, he’s now painfully hard in his jeans.

 

_ Two hours earlier, at Petra, Timmy had wandered into a cave beside a rarely used footpath. The site was amazing, almost inconceivably so, but it made him feel small. And being at the center of a giant blockbuster machine with people swirling around him at all times was already taking care of that quite nicely, thank you. _

 

_ At the sound of footsteps he turned, saw it was only Will, smiled in relief. “I just needed a second, you know?” _

 

_ Will was behind him in an instant. How does Timmy always forget that Will’s so tall? Even in the desert heat, Will’s breath warmed the back of Timmy’s neck as he spoke. “You’re so tense. I can tell. They don’t know you like I do, but I see it.” Timmy breathed in and out, slowly. Will’s hand brushed his hip, so faintly he might have missed it if the gesture wasn’t so familiar. Hadn’t happened so many times, whenever he needed it, no questions asked and no need to talk about it afterward. “You seem like you need to...relax.” The final word is more whispered than spoken, and more felt than whispered. _

 

_ “Yes,” Timmy breathes, so softly he’d be afraid anyone else might not have caught it. _

 

_ But Will heard. _

 

Timmy’s sprawled on the enormous bed, a luxurious but overworked fan churning overhead. The pristine sheets are already gritty with sand and dirt carried in from the day’s explorations. As soon as Will grabs the waistband of Timmy’s jeans and pulls him roughly toward the middle of the bed, Timmy no longer cares where the sand goes. He doesn’t even need to think, just cants his hips upward when Will yanks at his jeans, and then suddenly Will’s naked too, pressing Timmy into the mattress beneath him, hands tangled in Timmy’s hair, pulling Timmy’s head back to expose his throat and pepper his collarbone with kisses.

 

_ How does he know? _ Timmy thinks as he slides his fingers through Will’s hair, feeling its cornsilk softness between his fingers. Because, as neither of them would deny if they knew you well enough, this  _ has _ happened before, the memories like lightning strikes. The day Timmy cried when his part in  _ Interstellar _ had turned out to be so small that when anyone claimed to recognize him from it, he assumed they were lying. The first full day back from Crema, when Timmy wandered dazed around his apartment till Will showed up with a bottle of wine nicked from his parents’ cellar. (“The pain will shrink and the love will grow. But they’re always intertwined,” Will had said then. Someday it will occur to Timmy to ask Will where he learned this.) The morning the Oscar nominations were announced, sitting in Will’s bedroom, the only light coming from the laptop propped at the foot of the bed, Will on his knees before they finished reading Adam Driver’s name.

 

And now, five thousand miles from anyone he knows, people blowing around him like grains of sand and disappearing just as quickly, everyone needing something from him that he’s not sure he even  _ has _ , and it turns out what he needs most is Will planting open-mouthed kisses along his ribs, down to his navel, brushing a teasing thumb up the underside of Timmy’s cock. And Will knew he needed this even before Timmy himself knew.

 

Sometimes it’s a relief to let someone else be the perceptive, sensitive one for a change.

 

Will’s hand curls fully around Timmy’s cock and he almost sobs with happiness as his world narrows to this: sensation, breath, hair brushing his thigh as Will’s tongue laps at the base of his dick. Then there’s a warm chuckle from between Timmy’s legs as Will’s tongue goes lower, skims his balls, his breath tickling the sensitive skin beneath, and a finger tentatively brushing against Timmy’s entrance is also a question. Timmy answers it by rolling his hips down, seeking the sensation as the pad of Will’s finger presses ever so slightly into him.

 

There’s a pleased hum, and Timmy doesn’t even know if it’s Will’s or his own, he just knows that Will’s tongue has replaced his finger, lapping sloppy circles around Timmy’s hole, flicking ever so slightly in, until Timmy feels like he’s dripping onto the sheets before anything’s even happened yet. Will sits up slightly, extends his index finger toward Timmy, who doesn’t even think before sucking the finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around all four sides. There’s a faint  _ pop _ when Will pulls his finger away and then slides in slowly but firmly inside Timmy, drawing out a sigh that seems to have been building up for months. “Fuck, oh, fuck,  _ yeah _ ,” Timmy babbles as Will circles the finger lazily inside him.

 

With his other hand Will presses Timmy’s knee back toward his chest until Timmy realizes what he wants, exhales shakily.  _ This _ is newer ground for them, something that’s only happened once before. The night before Timmy left to film The King, both of them rattling around Timmy’s packed-up apartment, beer-drunk and full of too much energy. Timmy pinning Will against the wall, knowing Will was letting him, like he always did. Will flipping Timmy so fast it made the room spin (well, made the room spin  _ more _ ), Timmy panting into Will’s mouth  _ make sure I don’t forget _ . And he hadn’t forgotten.

 

When Timmy pulls both knees up, holds himself there, waiting, Will’s eyes darken while his mouth breaks into a lopsided grin. His head and arms disappear off the edge of the bed, fumbling for something in his bag, and he comes back up with lube and a condom. Timmy lowers his foot, knocks the condom out of Will’s hand. He shakes his head at the question in Will’s eyes.  _ No need. There’s no one else _ . Will bites his lip, shakes his head, looks as if he’s about to speak but thinks better of it. It will be years before Timmy thinks to ask what he was about to say.

When Will kneels between Timmy’s legs he’d swear he sees a mischievous glint in Will’s eyes, and his suspicion is confirmed when Will drizzles lube sloppily onto Timmy’s inner thigh, making him yelp at the cold. Then suddenly Will is serious, one of those flashes of intensity he only reveals after years of friendship, and he pools the lube in his palms, blows it to warm it, runs a finger through it and lazily caresses the rim of Timmy’s entrance until Timmy’s begging for it, grinding against nothing but a fingertip, sure that one more level of sensation will put him in a place where he can’t even remember why he was trying to forget.

 

Then Will lines himself up, dripping onto the already-damp sheets, nudging Timmy’s hole while Timmy breathes deeply  _ one, two, three _ and then Will slides in, bottoms out in one smooth motion, and Timmy sees more stars than he’d see in the desert night outside. And it’s perfect. 

 

Timmy throws his head back, watches the tired fan thrumming in the dim light, its rhythm just off from the one Will is creating inside him. He draws a deep breath, surprises himself by shuddering through it, and Will moans at the unexpected vibration of Timmy’s hips. “Fuck, Tim, you feel so good.” Will reaches for Timmy’s cock which has been bobbing into a puddle of precome on his stomach, grasps it firmly, draws another gasp from Timmy that makes him clench around Will’s dick.

 

Timmy opens his mouth to say  _ make me forget, this time I want to forget everything that’s not  right here and now _ when Will’s eyes meet his and nothing needs to be said. Will speeds up his pace, extra lube slicking his thighs as they slap against Timmy’s, and he rocks his hand up and down Timmy’s cock at the same breakneck speed. As if they’ll fly off the edge of the world if he moves fast enough. Fuck, they’re already at the edge of the world. Is it too much to hope that they could fly?

 

When Will comes Timmy feels the pulse of his cock moving through his insides like a heartbeat and that pulse drives his own orgasm out of him, mouth open in a silent cry, Will’s already slick hand sliding from Timmy’s cock into the pool of cum on Timmy’s stomach. He reaches beside the bed for his T-shirt, wipes Timmy off before cleaning his hand. Suddenly the sun and sand and sensation are overwhelming and Timmy settles his head onto Will’s shoulder gratefully. He presses his lips to Will’s in a chaste kiss that lasts several seconds; it’s the last thing Timmy remembers before sleep claims him.

 

The next day they’re in the backseat of a truck with a few crew members, out for some harmless stunt driving in the desert. Timmy and Will sit several feet apart on the seat; no one had asked questions when Will slept over in Timmy’s room once (you could blame that on wine) but they certainly don’t need anyone asking questions. On a whim Timmy grabs his phone, whips it around in a slow circle. Will catches his eye once during the filming, and Timmy shuts off the video before he shows his face. He’s already been seen by the only eyes that truly matter.


End file.
